The Lord of the Earrings, discontinued for now
by PippinStrange
Summary: Where I go to school, boys aren't allowed to wear earrings. LOTR spoof starring all my friends. The Fellowship must return the One Earring to the Mall, lest the boys be tempted. Chap 15 up! Battle starts in Locker. Davum takes them to a spider. SCISSORS!
1. Chapter 1, a Very Merry Birthday Party

Halledriel: Everything is changing. I feel it in the air. I sense it in the air. I touch it in the air. I hear it in the air. I smell it in the air…oh, never mind.

**TITLE:**

**The Lord of the Earrings**

Halledriel: A long time ago, earrings became banned from school. But an unknown source claimed one for its own and carried it to disregard the rules. He began buying other earrings and distributing it to the school body. The time had come for something to change…

…the First Earring came to the creature Davum, and he kept it many a long year.

Then one day, it was lost.

A Cobbit named Jobo discovered it lying in the gym, and kept it for his own.

A Cobbit is a very short creature, of Scottish descent, that lives on farms, to clarify any questions.

Anyways, secretly, Jobo had always wanted to pierce his ear. So Jobo grew old, and finally decided to leave his home for the sunny state below...

"So," said Nandalf one day, "Jobo, my old friend—how are you enjoying your birthday party?"

"I LIKE IT A LOT," said Jobo. He never knew what the word "quiet" meant. "IT'S A LOT OF FUN."

Nandalf regarded him with a raised eyebrow as usual. "Are you giving that earring to someone?"

"YEAH," Jobo agreed. "SOMEONE TO CARRY THE TRADITION OF HAVING AN EARRING AT SCHOOL."

"Who are you giving it to?"

"I WAS THINKING OF ANDRO."

"Andro?" Nandalf gasped. "But he never breaks any rules! He'll turn it right in!"

"I DON'T THINK SO," Jobo grinned. "WHEN HE FINDS OUT THE POWER IT HAS, HE'LL WANT TO KEEP IT!"

"Oh, you mean the power to turn invisible?" Nandalf shrugged. "I guess. It is pretty good darn reason to keep an earring."

"YEAH."

Meanwhile, two girl-cobbits sat hiding underneath the bleachers.

"Where are the fireworks?" asked the tall one.

"Down here," said the short one. She began to pull a tiny firework out of Nandalf's bag.

"No, no, Pickle!" the tall one said. "Grab the big one!"

Pickle grabbed a firework and they scrambled away. Herry, the tall one, followed her munching on an apple innocently. Then they both ducked under the bleachers again.

Just as they were about to light it, Nandalf came down and glanced under the bleachers.

"Pickle Mook and Herry Sandybruck!" he exclaimed. "I should have known."

"Known what?" asked the girls, very confused, sad looks on their faces.

"Known that…that…" said Nandalf, suddenly not quite remembering what he knew. "Known that you'd be under the bleachers, that's what!"

Both of them brightened immediately. "He's not such a bad wizard after all," whispered Herry.

"WHO says I'm NOT bad?" challenged Nandalf, standing up fiercely. "I'm not a wizard, but I AM bad. Ha, so there."

"Prove it!" said Pickle. What a stupid thing to say.

"Go wash dishes," came the reply.

"Noooooo!" cried the two cobbits.

After checking on them later and seeing that, yes indeed, their little arms were buried in some suds, Nandalf went upstairs, found Jobo, and said,

"Your party guests are asking for a speech."

"OH, OKAY."

Jobo stood and addressed the gathering of a few cobbitt's. "HELLO COBBITS!" he shouted. They all cheered in response.

"GUESS WHAT?" Jobo shouted.

"What?" responded the crowd.

"I don't know that half of you are half as rebellious as I am as rebellious as myself, and I know that less than half of you are half as rebellious as I am."

This was spoken in such a normal voice that there was a shocked silence. No capital letters, no booming volume. Even the offensive things he said was of no concern.

"BYE BYE!" he shouted, suddenly disappearing. There was a gasp. Jobo made his way past the group and then rematerialized next to Andro.

Andro gasped. "Where'd you come from? Weren't you up there?"

Jobo only smiled and tossed him the little earring. "Merry Christmas," he said, vanishing as he ran off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2, Fellowship of Dead Spiders?

**The Fellowship of the Dead Spider**

Andro paced back and forth. "I've got this stupid earring now. What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Use it!" Nandalf suggested.

"No!" barked Andro. "It's against the rules. I guess I have to take it to the principal."

"Don't take it to the principal," said Nandalf. "I know exactly what you must do with it."

Andro smiled. "I know! I'll put it in the trash! No one knows its here. Do they, Nandalf?"

No answer.

"Do they, Nandalf?" Andro repeated impatiently.

Nandalf smiled ruefully. "Davum knows. And he always checks the trash for it. I've seen him lurking around campus."

"Oh." Andro looked sad. "What do I do, then?"

"You must take it across the valley," Nandalf spoke in a deep and solemn voice. "You must take it through the land of Newberg in rain or shine. You must brave the elements and trek over the Chehalem Mountain! It will not be easy! But you must do what is best for the school and take it as far away from campus! You must journey the Wild and take it back at the place where…where it was bought."

Andro gasped. "Straight to where it was bought? Where's that?"

"The Mall," whispered Nandalf.

"THE MALL?" Andro yelled. "That's scary!"

"I know--" started Nandalf, being interrupted by a thump outside.

Nandalf opened the door and Jam Pengee fell in.

"Jam Pengee!" yelled Nandalf. "What were you doing? Listening in? Eavesdropping?"

"I wasn't listening no dropping eaves in," protested Jam, stuttering to a halt when he realized that what he said didn't make any sense.

"Oh well," said Nandalf. "I guess I'll just make you accompany Andro on his journey to the mall."

"Okay, whatever you say, Nandalf, just don't turn me into anything—unnatural."

"Your whole existence is unnatural; Jam, considering you are a Cobbit."

Jam looked around him, suddenly feeling very enlightened. "Oh!"

There was another thump. Nandalf opened the door and two more people fell in.

"Josholus and Timagorn!" shouted Nandalf. "Of all the nerve!"

"We're going too," Timagorn shouted. He waved a plastic sword around. "I'll protect them with my SWORD!"

"It's plastic," said Nandalf doubtfully. "But it will suffice. Don't shish-kabob the Cobbits, please."

"And I'm going too," said Josholus, adjusting his 'real men wear pink' shirt. "I can scare dorks away with my lovely blond hair—uh, I mean, my BOW."

There were two more thumps. Nandalf opened the door and two more came in.

"Alright," he shouted, "Please introduce yourselves!"

"I am Aromere," said one, "And I am going because the country of Locker wants to see it done. Plus, I am extremely useful. Also, I'm cool. Fourthly, I'm…I'm…" he went blank.

"An idiot?" offered Nandalf.

"That's the one!" Aromere snapped his fingers.

"And I am Brentli," said the second, curly-haired creature. "And I am going!"

"Why…?" asked Nandalf.

"Because," snapped Brentli, "It will be a million years before I see this mission in the hands of this Josholus-fellow. It's just so uncivilized."

"So be it," said Nandalf, "You shall travel to the Mall…"

"WAIT!" called two voices. Two insane blonde girls came running in.

"You'll have to tie us in a sack and throw us in the river to keep us away," said Herry.

"Anyways," said Pickle, "You need people of intelligence on this mission…quest…um, thing…"

"That rules you out, Pick," said Herry.

"Weren't you supposed to be washing dishes?" whispered someone in the back.

"FOR THE SECOND TIME," tried Nandalf, "So be it…"

"One question--" tried Brentli.

"NO!" barked Nandalf. "_So be it_ means its time to shut up! Understand?"

Not one moved. Pickle hiccupped and noticed a dead spider on the ceiling.

"So be it," Nandalf said slowly, glaring at anyone who batted an eyelash or stared at the dead spider on the ceiling. "You shall be called the Fellowship of the…the…"

"Dead spider," offered Herry, noting Pickle's interest.

"That's an eye-opener an' no mistake!" quoted Jam, feeling a little out of place. He never had many lines in this scene, anyway.

"Earring," hissed Andro. "It's fellowship of the earring!"

"THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE EARRING," screamed Nandalf, smoke emerging from his ears.

"Great," said Pickle, "Where's the first lunch stop?"

"McDunedain's," whispered Herry.


	3. Chapter 3, Earring goes South or North

**Dear ScissorHero: **Thank-you for your review! The humor is mostly based on personalities, so I will try to write you in based on your penname. I have everything pre-written, so I may not be able to write you in around till...chapter six or so. Have patience, keep reading and reviewing, and you'll find yourself in here somewhere (most likely as a talking pair of scissors, perhaps one of Galadriel's gifts)

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**The Earring Goes South…or North**

"Soooo…" said Andro. "Which route are we taking?"

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm…" Nandalf shrugged. "South."

"I KNOW we're going south," snapped Andro. "But which route south?"

"We'll go over the Chehalem Mountain," said Nandalf in a deep voice. "The pass of Curvy Roads is being watched."

"Okay…" Andro paused and thought a moment. "But…Chehalem Mountain is…north!"

"I KNOW THAT!" shouted Nandalf.

"Don't yell at me," whined Andro. "You can't know that if you're saying its south."

"South or north! It doesn't matter!" blood vessels started popping out on Nandalf's forehead.

"Nandalf…" Andro peered up at him. "Are you…directionally challenged?"

"YES!" Nandalf fell to the ground, sobbing. "I wasn't going to say anything! No other soul on this earth knows! It's a big secret! My life's going up the drain!"

"You mean down the drain," corrected Andro unsympathetically. "And this whole trip will follow if you lead us the wrong way."

"Timagorn shall take over," said Nandalf, drying his tears and standing up. "After I die, that is."

"Yippee!" Andro began skipping around before tripping on a rock and falling on his face.

"Try to stay downright," said Nandalf.

"Its 'upright'!" a muffled correction came from the dirt.

Suddenly, Josholus cried out, "We're being followed!"

Everyone dived undercover just as a whole crowd of dorks wandered onto the road from where they had just stood.

"Dorks," whispered Timagorn. "They were once the smartest kids in school. Long ago the hunt for the earring twisted their minds till they were creatures of horrible color."

"I think the proper word is Orcs," said Josholus.

"No!" snapped Nandalf. "It's dorks. Don't change the story, you'll ruin my appetite."

"Did you say something about FOOD?" Pickle rushed forward. She shouted so loudly that the dorks noticed them. "Open fire!" shouted the lead dork. All the dorks began to fire upon the fleeing fellowship.

"We're gaining on them," said a dork soldier.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay," said the lead dork.


	4. Chapter 4, Bridge of Kazoo of Doom

**The Bridge of the Kazoo-of-Doom**

"To the bridge of Kazoo-of-doom," shouted Nandalf.

Josholus, being a musician in secret, replied, "I object to that remark very strongly! And I think you spelled Kazoo wrong! And now even I'm doing it wrong!"

"What remark?" asked Nandalf, casually picking up speed, noticing the dorks were still following.

"I don't know," Josholus said, running even faster. "Thinking makes me run faster! Keep asking me questions!"

"Uh…" Nandalf paused. "What's your favorite dessert?"

"Where are they serving dessert?" cried Pickle, halting. Everyone else ran into her and fell over. Sounds of falling bowling pins were heard.

"Quick, Josholus," yelled Nandalf hysterically as they were being surrounded by dorks. "Scare them away with your blonde ha—I mean, your bow."

Josholus grinned menacingly. "Good idea, Nandalf." He quickly pulled a violin and bow from his backpack and prepared to play a shrilling, squeaking song that resembled poisoned wasps and fingernails on chalkboard.

Not one dork moved.

"Give me that," shouted Brentli, grabbing the violin and attempting to play it. Finding that it did no good, and the dorks were closing in—holding sharp pencils and large calculators for shields—he pulled out a didgeridoo and gave it a blast.

Every single dork halted a moment, looked around, and ran off somewhere to find Australia.

"That was a good ol' sound from Upover," stated Nandalf in a twangy Australian accent.

"It's 'Down-under'," corrected Brentli, very offended. "'Upover' is an _entirely _different culture. And it's nowhere NEAR Australia."

"Try: Not even existing in the natural world," said Timagorn sarcastically.

"I'm unnatural and I exist!" offered Jam.

"SHUTUP!" shouted everyone.

Everyone noticed the land around them grew very quiet.

"What new devilry is this?" whispered Aromere, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes.

"You aren't supposed to say that yet," chortled Jam. "We're supposed to see some red light in the distance first--"

Just then, a nearby intersection light turned red. "Okay, there we go," said Jam, satisfied. He noticed a nearby rose garden. He rushed over, whispering, "Bless me, Mr. Frodo! Look at this beautiful garden. Me ol' gaffer would be in awe of such a thing. No one at 'ome will believe this."

"We have roses there too," argued Andro. "And don't call me Mr. Frodo. And quit talking with that stupid accent. And stop smelling the roses!"

"Like my old gaffer says," agreed Jam, "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye."

"Uh…" said Andro. "From what—a rose thorn? YOU IDIOT!"

"Be quiet," said Aromere. "We came, we saw the red light. Now what?"

"Dinner!" Pickle suggested hopefully.

"NO!" shouted the rest.

"Have an apple," said Herry.

"Why?" asked Pickle.

"Because otherwise Timagorn will throw one at your stupid little head."

"Oh," said Pickle. "Bring on the apples! I'm hungry!"

Just then, a white light appeared in the distance. A lovely girl appeared on the hilltop in a white dress.

"You are SUPPOSED TO BE RED," called Aromere. "You've got it ALL wrong!"

"Shut up," said Jam, "The lady is talking!"

"Greetin's!" she called. "Sup?"

"Supper, you mean?" asked Pickle. Timagorn proceeded to knock her unconscious with an apple.

"You're late," called Andro sarcastically, not even knowing who she was, and frankly not even caring.

"I know," Ariwen, the woman in white, apologized. "I was supposed to come earlier, when Andro got stabbed by some dorks, but you ended up walking RIGHT by them. So now it is too late. Stupid fellowship."

"Aw, that hurt," Timagorn sobbed. "I'm even a worse leader than, than… a ranger caught off his guard!"

"That too, actually," added Ariwen. Timagorn couldn't contain himself and ran away, sobbing.

"We'd better follow him," suggested Nandalf. "I'm unsure of where we are. See yah, white person."

"It's Ariwen," snapped Ariwen. "I'm leaving you alone now, I don't want to be around when that red light turns green."

"What do you mean 'When the red light turns green'?" the fellowship repeated, just as they wandered onto the bridge of Kazoo-of-doom. The red light disappeared, and a roar rushed towards them.

"What new devilry is this?" Aromere tried again, shooting a glare at Jam.

"You FINALLY got it right!" chortled Jam. Andro picked a rose thorn off a bush and proceeded to chase him around in circles.

"Traffic," whispered Nandalf in a hoarse voice. "It used to be called a balrog, but they changed it because NO ONE wanted to cross the street. Traffic sounds less scary, but it is still dangerous. When a red light turns green, it is time to leave the streets."

"Uh…" Andro dropped the rose thorn and shouted, "Then WHY ARE WE STANDING ON THIS STUPID BRIDGE?"

"Good question," replied Nandalf. "RUN!"

Everyone ran off the bridge just in time, but Nandalf stayed in the middle of the road, singing loudly, "Here I come to save the daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"

A black dot appeared in the distance and was racing for him at breakneck speed.

"Is that a…car of Traffic?" gasped Andro.

"Yes," said Herry, "Not that I know anything about it, in fact, I'm not even saying I know anything about anything. _But you might as well take my word for it_!"

Da da da!

Josholus broke out into the 'Reading Rainbow' theme song.

The car drew closer and closer.

"Go back to the factory from which you were made!" cried Nandalf, and when the car did not slow down, he shouted in a huge voice--"YOU…SHALL NOT…PASS!"—just as the car ran over him.

"NANDAAAAAALF!" cried Andro. "That poor wizard!"

"He resembles a pancake," corrected Jam.

"Did I hear something about…pancakes?" giggled Pickle. "I miss breakfast."

Just then, another car came zooming along, knocking Nandalf off the bridge—and into the river.

"Bummer," said Aromere. "Wizard road kill. It's a sad thing."


	5. Chapter 5, Meeting Halledriel

**Meeting Halledriel**

The Fellowship turned dejectedly and walked into a nearby forest.

"Well," said Brentli brightly, "At least we don't have to worry about getting lost anymore."

The fellowship brightened immediately and continued into the forest, called Mothlorien, where strange creatures may await them.

"You say 'may'," said Brentli, tromping along. "Mr. Narrator, but it is not 'may', you know there 'are'."

"What ARE you mumbling about?" asked Josholus.

"Like I'd tell YOU," snapped Brentli. "I don't trust people that wear pink. Or have pointy ears, for that matter."

"I DON'T have pointy ears," said Josholus.

"Yes, you DO," argued Brentli.

"No, I don't," snapped Josholus. "Your ears are more pointy than mine! There, like, fox ears!"

"Fox ears?" shouted Brentli, truly offended. "I suppose you say I have the eyes of a hawk, too, is that right?"

"Well, now that you mention it--"

Suddenly, a sharp object was aimed at Brentli's face. He looked startled and muttered, "Dangit Bobby!"

"This curly-haired little man breathes so loud we could have shot him in a thick fog," said another tall, blonde fellow.

Brentli assumed that he was talking about Josholus and grinned stupidly.

"Shot him in the DARK," corrected Jam.

"Who are you?" asked Josholus.

"I am Auldir," said the person. "I am servant of the most High!"

"A missionary?" asked Josholus.

"No, stupid!" said Auldir. "I'm servant of the lady Halledriel. She wants you to come to the Center of the woods with me and visit her."

"Is that so?" asked Timagorn. "Well then! Allow me to introduce myself. I am C-3--"

"He's Timagorn," interrupted Andro, tired of everyone embarrassing him. "I am Andro, the earring bearer!"

Auldir peered close at his face. "Oh, you're the whiny little person sent from School."

"Please," said Aromere, "Don't insult the Cobbits. They're very sensitive."

As if on cue, Pickle and Herry began to sob at the same time.

"Er," growled Auldir. "Don't cry. Let's just continue, shall we?"

Presently, they were brought before Halledriel. She studied them all very quietly at first, then suddenly began to giggle. Being very proper, she slapped her hand over her mouth and tried to suppress her laughter. She released a short burst of guffaws, then clapped her hand back over her mouth. Laugh, slap. Laugh, slap.

"What is so funny?" asked Josholus, wondering if his hair had a little wingy-dingy sticking out.

"Him!" Halledriel pointed at Aromere. Aromere was in awe of her ability to read his mind—how did she KNOW that he was funny? It was truly amazing! He burst into laughter at the thought of it, and was immedietly smacked by Josholus.

"We came from School," he said grandly. "We set out together but we lost Nandalf on the Kazoo-of-Doom."

"Lost him?" asked Halledriel. "How do you just, lose somebody?"

"A just question, my liege." Said Josholus doubtfully.

"That's Worm's line!" snapped Jam.

"Well, no matter," said Halledriel brightly. "Go to bed, all of you. It's past your bedtime. Auldir, see to it that a teddy bear and a blanket is distributed to each one, and that they are led to the tree-root bedchambers. Enjoy your rest, everyone."

They smiled gratefully and continued on their way.

"Oh, yeah," Halledriel almost forgot her most important line. "And welcome, Andro son of Lisa!"

Andro noticed her eyes seemed kinda blue, but he took no notice of it and followed the fellowship.


	6. Chapter 6, the Vanity of Halledriel

**Chapter Six, the Vanity of Halledriel**

Herry and Pickle watched Josholus carefully. Having combed his long blonde hair out to an extra shininess, he walked around in circles as if in a daze, holding a pitcher of water.

"What IS he doing?" asked Herry.

"A lament to Gandalf," replied Josholus.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Pickle.

Josholus shook himself and then appeared normal. "Oh, hmm, I'm just walking in circles."

"That's stupid!" said Herry.

"Is it…fun?" asked Pickle.

"Well, er, yes actually. Otherwise I wouldn't be doing it."

Pickle decided to try her walking in circles too. While they continued to make fluid figure eight movements, Herry grew bored watching and asked Timagorn, "Hey yo. What's the singing in the trees?"

Timagorn glared at her before responding carefully, "A lament to Nandalf."

"What is a lament?" asked Herry.

"Shampoo for blondes," called Josholus.

"Someone ought to have a shampoo for his fireworks," said Jam.

"You mean a lament," said Andro.

"No, I mean a shampoo." Jam stood, blushing, and began to recite, "Nandalf had the finest gray hair you'd ever seen. He also had fireworks the color of sky and a spleen. It'd burst in a silver rain like Costco flowers…"

"His hair, or the fireworks?" asked Brentli. Timagorn smacked until he snorted and fell asleep.

"And he used shampoo for his showers," stuttered Jam, getting more awkward by the moment. "Oh, forget it. That doesn't do him justice."

Andro was moved to tears, however. "That was wonderful, Jam."

Jam burrowed under his blanket and hugged his teddy bear to his chest. "Why, I thank-ye, Miz Rosie."

Andro shook his head confused. He finally glanced around and realized Jam had sung everyone to sleep. Even Pickle and Josholus had fallen asleep where they stood, looking slightly green from their dizzying escapade.

Andro stood and decided to go have some fun. He wished he had brought some of ol' Nandalf's fireworks. That would have been fun to set them off and explode things! Her pictured the "almighty" Halledriel picking up her skirts and fairly running for her life. The thought made him laugh.

"Shhhh," said a voice.

Andro glanced around and saw Halledriel beckoning to him.

"What do you want with me?" he cried.

"I am that I am," she replied, giggling.

"I wasn't _trying _to quote Scripture," protested Andro. "You always turn things around!"

Halledrial's face fell. "Well, in that case, just follow me to the stinkin' mirror."

Together, they made their way over a lawn towards a mirror hanging on a tree.

"You shouldn't walk barefoot," said Andro quickly. "It's bad for you."

"Like HOW?" challenged Halledriel, stepping on a dead bee. "OW!" she screeched, hopping on one foot. She staggered over to the mirror and tapped on it. "This mirror is like, so VERY cool," she said. "I just got stung by a bee, but that doesn't matter because the mirror tells me I'm Bee-yoo-ti-full so it makes me feel better."

"Nice." Andro wasn't really at all interested, rather, he wished he had a corndog and some mint leaves for a snack.

"Will YOU look into the mirror?" asked Halledriel.

"What …will…I …see…" Andro began in monotone, then shook the spell off quickly. "What do MEAN? I don't WANT to look in the mirror. I'm a Cobbit! I'm short, curly haired, fair-faced…you get the idea. I'm a wuss with low self esteem. The LAST thing I was to hear is a mirror telling me I am sooo beeyayooteeteefull-ee-er, whatever. That would be the final blow for my sanity."

"Sanity?" asked Halledriel in awe. "What is this new devilry?"

"Don't start that again!" screeched Andro. "We've been over that. Aromere only got it wrong three hundred times."

Halledriel may have been a bit puzzled by the outburst, but like most stupid people, forgot about it in a matter of seconds. "You have low self esteem, eh?"

"You're Canadian, I knew it," said Andro. "Imposter!"

"Everyone says 'eh'," protested Halledriel. "Stop changing the subject!"

"Alright," snapped Andro. "I get the pic. Yes, I DO have low self esteem."

"The mirror helps," said Halledriel.

A face in the mirror appeared and said, "Andro, you are gorgeous--"

"Shut up," replied Andro.

The mirror shrugged. "Perhaps I should introduce the Three Bachelorettes of the Kingdom!"

Andro looked curious. "Go on."

"Well, we've got Cinderella, Snow White, and Princess Fiona--"

Halledriel turned it off. "I hate this program."

"Hey, I was watching that!" said Andro.

"Losers weepers," replied Halledriel.

"Finders keepers!" cried Andro. "And I found it! It's mine, my own!"

"There's no need to get angry," snapped Halledriel.

"Well if I'm angry its your fault," Andro snapped back. "Unless I give it to you."

"You offer it to me…freely?" asked Halledriel. "I confess I've always wanted to get my ears pierced! But my parents wouldn't let me!"

"Well, at least it's not against the rules for a girl," said Andro.

Halledriel soon forgot the whole deal. "Of course! That's why there is NO point in trying to tempt me. Because I'm a girl and it's NOT against the rules. So ha, so there. Loser."

Andro stuffed the earring in his pocket. "Darn!"

Suddenly, a Great Ear appeared in the mirror.

"Quick, hide!" called Halledriel. "It wants you to give it back to the Great Ear!"

"Who's that?" asked Andro. "I'm just returning it to the Mall. Straight to Customer Service. You know there is NO dark lord-on-his-dark throne thingy."

"Oh, right," said Halledriel. "Then Who's Ear is this?"

Andro turned and saw his face in the reflection. "Oh. It was my ear."

"Lucky for you I have a strong heart," Halledriel gasped. "Now shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Yes Mum!" replied Andro sarcastically.

Halledriel allowed the mirror to tell her how gorgeous she was one last time, then turned it off again. She ushered Andro into his room and handed him his teddy bear.

"Sweet dreams," she said quite kindly.

Andro dreamed about corndogs and mint leaves all night.


	7. Chapter 7, Noble Gifts, maybe

**To the Scissor Reviewer: Look for something very familier to your penname at the end of the chapter. wink wink**

**To the other reviewers: Thankyou for your reviews! I love them. Enjoy this chap.

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Chapter Seven, Noble Gifts, maybe

Halledriel stepped forth and glanced at the fellowship with gleaming…almost sparkling…eyes.

Brentli could hear the voice of the narrator again. "Those aren't gleaming, nor sparklin'!" he said, stamping one foot. "Those are reflections from those Christmas lights!" he pointed to a strand of lights.

The fellowship turned and stared at the lights.

"Well I'll be darned," muttered Aromere. "So it is true!"

"That's insulting…" Halledriel looked at them, suddenly uncomfortable. "I welcome you into my home, let you eat my food, squash my teddy bears in your sleep, glance in my mirror, offer me earrings, live in a tree—and you hate my special effects? That's CRUEL!"

Timagorn began to sniffle again. "I'm even worse than…than…a ranger caught off his--"

"Enough already," said Jam. "There's more to be 'ad if ye'd all stop this stuff'n'nonsense!"

"How many times have I told you not to talk in an accent?" said Andro.

"May I interrupt?" said Halledriel casually. "You hate my Christmas lights. So you must hate Christmas."

"How DID YOU KNOW--" began Pickle sarcastically. Herry elbowed her and hissed, "Shut up! There may be presents!"

"You are right!" said Halledriel. Just then, Auldir emerged from a tree, dressed in a Santa Claus costume. He looked extremely it be? Gasp! He was embaressed!

Auldir handed out the presents as each member gleefully grabbed them, whether it was labeled for them or not, and shook off the paper. Some of them didn't like what they got and traded around, but everyone ended getting what belonged to them in the first place so no one was unhappy.

"To Pickle and Herry," said Halledriel, "I give you matching broaches. They are green, leafy, and silly! Just like you!"

"The cobbit sensitivity--" warned Josholus, but of no avail. On cue, Pickle and Herry burst into tears.

"To the blonde elfy," said Halledriel, "You got this coolio bow. And it's not a violin bow, neither. And its made with a guitar string. Very effective."

Josholus bowed so low that he fell on his face, then hurriedly stood and sobbed when the dirt got in his hair.

"And to the Dwarf Man," Halledriel frowned at Brentli. "You don't get ANY PRESENTS! HAHAHA!"

Brentli grinned.

Halledriel frowned. "Or….maybe not."

Brentli frowned back.

"Okay, so you get a lock of stinky hair, hows that?" Halledriel laughed.

Brentli smiled and cried.

"Dangit, he likes it," Halledriel moved on to Timagorn and Aromere. "You guys get REAL swords, not plastic ones," she told them. "And some shampoo. Lord knows you NEED IT!"

"Josholus wouldn't share!" whined Aromere.

"And to Andro and Jam," said Halledriel. "Andro gets this high-tech flashlight with star guts in it, and Jam gets a pair of talking scissors."

Andro was delighted, but Jam was suspicious.

"Scissors?" he repeated. Halledriel handed him the scissors, who said in a tiny voice, "You're looking sharp today!"

"They give you complements," said Halledriel. "Very nice. You'll get used to them."

"Well done Ed!" said Andro.

"Ed?" repeated Jam.

"Edward scissorhands!" guffawed Andro. Jam blushed and ran away.

And with that, the fellowship departed to the River.


	8. Chapter 8, the River of Life

**Bullseye-fanatic: **Thank-you for the enthusiasm! It makes me really happy when people enjoy my story. Here's the next chapter!

**Scissorhero: **You are very welcome. I hope you like this chapter!

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**Chapter Eight, River of Life**

"How exactly are we expected to go down river thisa-way?" said Jam, growing more upset by the minute. "It's…balderdash!"

"I love that game," cried Pickle, running to shore and leaping in a boat. "Wheeeeee!" she cried. "Just smell that salt air!"

"It's not salt water," protested Herry. "But Pickle is right! How do you propose we get down there…Timagorn?"

Timagorn glanced from side to side, humming under his breath. "I'm thinking," he said shortly. "Musn't speak with us, so, musssssn't say such things. We is thinking carefully, we is."

Jam kicked Timagorn in the seat of his pants. "Shut up, you filthy little maggot!" he exclaimed. "Davum can only say those things, and him alone."

"Oooooooooooooooh!" cried the rest of them. Then there was an awkward silence.

"You've been told!" giggled Josholus.

Shut up!" replied Timagorn. "Go lament your hair." Josholus proceeded to drown himself in the river.

"Oh, Timmy!" cried Aromere, sidling up to Timagorn.

"WHAT?" said Timagorn exasperatingly.

"I'm thinkin' of a sooooong!"

"Um...thanks for that info."

"I know you know the wooooords," drawled Aromere.

Timagorn shrugged. "Possibly."

"Sing it," said Aromere.

"Sing WHAT?"

"The song."

"What song?"

"Your favorite song!"

"Oh. Okay." Timagorn straightened his shoulders and started singing quite loudly. "_Yah Man! We got a Jamaican Bobsled Team. Oooh! We've got da first Jamaican Bobsled team!"_

"Oh, the PAIN!" cried Brentli, digging a hole in the ground and planting his head inside.

"You think he'll grow roots?" asked Pickle, intrigued by the thought of digging oneself a hole and planting a dwarf head.

"You've got the words ALL WRONG!" cried Jam, who discovered he really, truly, was suffering from a paranoia that every line from their script would be butchered. Even if they never followed the script, anyways.

Timagorn stopped singing finally, when he realized there was no applause and that a bunch of little X shapes were appearing in the other members eyes, signifying a cartoonish death. Poor Timagorn decided, well, for the most part—singing wasn't going to help much.

"Let the ringbearer decide," he added, wondering if the bobsled song was EVER going to get out of his head.

"No!" cried Andro. "You always leave difficult decisions up to me! Nandalf already did this to me. One turn only."

Timagorn stood menacingly up to him, hollering, "Do as I say, Hafling!"

Andro sniffled and wiggled his ears. "Fine. We take the darn boat."

"What boat?" asked Josholus, his hair looking a little sudsy but nevertheless as Fabio-ish as he liked it.

"The boats are GONE!" cried Aromere. "What new devilry is this?"

"Stop using that line," hissed Jam. "It's getting very annoying."

"If there was a dictionary defining Jam, annoying would NEVER be in its vocabulary!" sighed the scissors tucked into his pocket.

"Shut up," Jam breathed into the scissors…uh…face… (if they have faces…)

"Your breath smells loverly!" replied the scissors.

"ARG!" cried Jam, throwing himself into the river.

"If there's not a boat, what should we use?" asked Josholus sensibly.

"Hey, about that bobsled?" Andro pointed to their left.

"YAY! Bobsleds!" shouted Aromere, though he actually wondered what it was.

"Ya, man, see? I told ya, didn't I, now, that there be bobsleds to be had?" Timagorn added, just for good measure.

"You never told me you were Jamaican!" cried Josholus. "Imposter!"

Josholus, however, was indeed forgotten as they clattered and climbed aboard the bobsled. Which, however, LOOKED like a bobsled but really was only a fancy rowboat. Everyone noticed this but chose NOT to tell Timagorn. If they told him, he might cry—and everyone hated to see him cry. Especially the cobbits—who cried automatically about almost anything.

"Speaking of which," said Andro, "Where are my Fair Cousins who make lovely boiled potatoes?"

"I make the potatoes," cried Jam, swimming up to the bobsled and clambering aboard.

"No, the cousins," said Andro, pointing. On shore, two tiny figures were filling buckets up with water and dousing a dwarf tree.

Josholus raised his hand to volunteer the task of retrieving the cobbits. "I'll get them," he cried gallantly, tripping over the side of the boat and landing in the water. He spluttered and doggy-paddled to the shore.

"Come on, cobbits!" he cried. "It's time to leave!"

"One moment," cried Herry.

"We just want to see if it grows," cried Pickle. They dunked the tree again.

"Balderdash," added Josholus, "That tree is old. And full of memories."

"Trees don't have memories," protested Herry.

"My point exactly," said Josholus, "That ain't no tree!"

Pickle screamed and fell on her backside.

"It's a dirty old dwarf," said Josholus, grabbing Brentli's legs and pulling his head out of the hole. "Well, say something, you old tree."

"itzizzayewavetoodoodooweh?" replied Brentli, coughing out the mud that Pickle had so lovingly poured over his mouth and nose.

"What'd he say?" asked Josholus.

Herry translated, "It's, it's a, you have to, doo, doo wah?"

"Of course," said Josholus, hoisting the dirty little man over his shoulder. "Come along, cobbits, you may bring your new pet with us."

"Yay!" cried Pickle and Herry, poking the tree man happily.

"OOf!" cried Brentli.

Sooner or later, rather sooner than later, but definitely later than sooner, they were all aboard. Aromere took Pickle and Herry, Timagorn took soggy Jam and Andro (who was feeling the emo effects that the earring had upon him) and Josholus told Pickle and Herry that he would see to it that Brentli didn't take root in the bottom of his bobsled.

So the three bobsleds continued peacefully down the river. There wasn't a sound, save the highway running alongside the shore that everyone tried to ignore.

"_Darkness falls and the night's begun_," chortled Pickle.

Herry tried to warn her, but of no avail—she continued to sing.

"_The RIVER of life runs as bright as the sun…!" _she continued happily.

WHAM!

Aromere whacked her head with his paddle. She stopped singing immediately.

"Wow, how'd you do that?" called Timagorn.

"Very carefully," replied Aromere.

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**Read and review por favor! Ideas are welcome for any "other movie" references or something. **

**You may notice I quoted from several movies, such as; That thing you do, Cool Runnings, Pride and Prejudice, Madagascar, Chicken Little, Star Wars, and Veggie Tales. lol. **


	9. Chapter 9, Breakin' of the Fellowship

**Bullseye-fanatic: **No worries! The scissors aren't dead. Jam's river escapade will add up to nothing more than a few possible rust spots. Thank-you for the review!

**Scissorhero: **I'm so glad you are enjoying this so much. Thank-you!

**Southerngirl: **Thank-you for the review! My goal in life is to make _everyone _chuckle. ;-)

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**Here is the last chapter of the Fellowship of the Earring. The next one is...The Alliance of the Two Ears.**

**A/N: There is such a thing as The Robin Hood Festival. That's not made up, lol.

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**

Chapter Nine, the Breaking of the Fellowship

"Pull over!" cried Andro as the river began to be more turbulent. "I'm getting' sick, man!"

"Geez Louise!" said Timagorn. "That's the third time you've asked me to pull over. Must I remind you—AGAIN—that we aren't in a car?"

"Cobbits have sensitive stomachs, too!" called Josholus.

On cue, Herry and Pickle leaned over the sides and poured out Josholus's secret bag of Oreos he kept in his bag that they had stolen.

"We've lost our cookies," they cried, grinning evilly at each other.

"See?" said Josholus triumphantly.

"Why did I get stuck with you two?" Aromere moaned.

Jam peered at a map he had bought at Disneyland. "We should be stopping here," he motioned to shore. "Near the Magic Mountain."

"That's no help," said Timagorn, frowning. "We're not looking for the mountain YET. First we gotta get ourselves through this here forest."

Everyone stared ominously at the looming trees.

"Fangorn," shouted Brentli.

"What the heck did you say?" Josholus asked.

"Nothing. I sneezed," replied Brentli.

"This isn't Fangorn," announced Aromere. "This is cursed land. This is Sherwood Forest. Little green men run around inside, it's quite frightening."

"I'm a little green man!" cried Andro, very offended. "The way Timagorn drives."

"For the last time," Timagorn threw his hands in the air. "I wasn't DRIVING!"

Pickle and Herry suddenly heard carnival music. "Food!" they cried, speeding off into the forest.

"Get them!" cried the others.

Timagorn, Josholus, and Brentli sped off in the direction they went. Jam and Andro circled around the left to see if they doubled back.

Suddenly, a great white light erupted in front of Timagorn, Josholus, and Brentli.

"What new devilry--" began Aromere, puffing up behind them. "Whew! I must be out of shape!"

"You are looking for two Cobbits," said the white light. "They found a carnival, does that aide you in anyway?"

"No!" they cried.

"Oh." Said the voice, disappointed. The light switched to a 'low'.

And before them, they beheld Nandalf.

"Nandalf!" they cried.

Nandalf stood poised on top of a stump, adjusting a large flashlight that was propped up behind him. He turned and realized he could see him and dropped the flashlight with embarrassment.

"Oh, hiya, fellahs," he said. "Long time no see!"

"What happened to you?" cried Timagorn.

"We were sooooo worried!" added Aromere.

"We were in despair!" Josholus shampooed.

"You still look like Wizard Road kill!" Brentli said brightly. He received glares from the rest of them.

"Now is not the time for this," Nandalf said briskly. "We need to go find those Cobbits. They've gone to the Robin Hood Festival."

Andro and Jam continued through the forest.

"We're going in circles!" cried Andro, feeling the need for a little theatrical uplift. "We've been here before! Why, we're LOST!" he sobbed ungratefully.

Jam shrugged. "Well, the others are gone, however you want to put it," he said sorrowfully. "We need to continue to the Mall on our own."

"I'm glad you're with me," Andro said sheepishly, blushing terribly.

"Baaaaaa," replied Jam, waving away the praise. "What are rich half-wit friends for?"

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Read and Review, I beg you! 


	10. Chapter 10, Palantir and Undead Monkeys

**Bullseye-fanatic**: The enthusiasm is contagious. I just HAD to write another chapter, lol. I hope you enjoy this one!

**Scissorhero: **Thank-you very much! I hope you like this chapter.

**Indiglo: **Thank-you for reading my story! Please enjoy this chapter!

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**The Alliance of the Two Ears…a.k.a. the Two Towers, but that doesn't sound anything like my story…

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**

**Chapter 10, Palantir and Undead Monkeys**

Pickle and Herry ran as fast as their, short, dumpy, short, chubby, flabby, short, little, (did I mention short?) legs could carry them—which, as it were, wasn't very fast.

Aromere caught up to them quite quickly, shouting, "Ah ha! I sssssseeeeee you!"

"Run!" cried the Cobbits together, bolting into the fairgrounds of the Robin Hood Festival.

"Ooooooh!" they said, pulling to a stop.

"What's all this noise?" cried Aromere. "What devilry! What nonsense!"

Pickle and Herry rolled their eyes and ran into a tent.

"Wait," shouted Aromere, popping out of his trance.

The cobbits plopped down in chairs, laughing hysterically for no apparent reason.

"Ah, would you like me to tell your fortunes?" The woman in the gypsy costume said by the table. "Come look into my little globe, if you please."

"Pickle," warned Herry.

"I just want to look at it," whispered Pickle.

"No. Don't do it."

"Just one look." Pickle eased herself into another chair and peered into the fortune tellers globe. A great ear appeared.

"GAAH!" cried Pickle in fright.

"It's only your ear," said the gypsy.

"Oops," Pickle leaned back, and the reflection of her ear disappeared.

The fortune teller pressed a button and the globe turned on, showing a big white tree.

"OOOOhhhhh, a white tree!" Pickle said, mesmerized.

Just then, Aromere led Nandalf, Timagorn, Josholus, and Brentli into the tent.

"So that's where you've been," they cried. Nandalf hoisted the cobbits up by their hair and dragged them out. "You are in big trouble, my friends!"

"Why do you look?" hissed Herry. "Why do you ALWAYS have to LOOK?"

"I'm sorry, alright?" Pickle frowned. "That's just taking cobbit sensitivity too far."

"Well," said Timagorn in a moments silence. "Andro and Jam have continued on without us! We have tarried too long here."

"We must go and aide them in the quest," growled Brentli.

"We must continue to the Mall," agreed Timagorn. "While were at it, let's hunt some dork."

"Arg!" cried Brentli.

They all glanced at him.

"Bloody pirate," said Josholus, running a hand through his hair.

They rushed through the carnival, hoping to go as fast as they could as not to be tempted by the exciting rides and booths of delicious food.

"Hurry!" cried Timagorn.

"Come ON, Brentli," urged Josholus.

"We've been going for days," cried Brentli. "With no sign of our quarry than what bare rock can tell!"

"But, but," said Aromere from the rear. "I thought you were supposed to say you were dangerous over short distances!"

"SHUTUP," cried Timagorn. "That's Jam's job. Don't get started on that."

"But--"

Timagorn slowed to a stop. "Hey. There's too many of us."

"Jah," shouted Josholus.

Brentli and Aromere stared him down.

"What?" said Josholus sheepishly.

"I always knew you were blonde for a reason," said Aromere.

"And the reason is?" asked Josholus nervously.

"You're…" started Aromere, a random drum roll beginning off in the bushes. "You're Swedish!"

"Nooooooooooooooooooooo!" cried Josholus. "I'm discovered!"

"Imposter!" shouted Brentli.

"Go die already," Timagorn said to Aromere. Aromere assumed he was speaking to Josholus and nodded enthusiastically.

"The Cobbits are gone," Josholus changed the subject. "We need to fix our priorities."

"Yeah," agreed Timagorn quickly, "What's really more important? Finding the Cobbits, killing Aromere and fulfilling the prophecy--"

"Script," corrected Aromere.

"Stop that," said Brentli.

"Well, Jam isn't here, so--"

"Getting some hamburgers at McDunedain's," Timagorn continued. "Sharpening our swords, tracking dorks, making Josholus stop lamenting his air--"

Josholus jerked his head out of a nearby stream and shook the water from his ears, his face turning the color of salsa.

"So what's our first priority?" Timagorn repeated.

"Definitely McDunedains," said Brentli.

"I agree," shouted Timagorn.

"Me three," added Josholus. They sped off into the direction of large golden arches, which in their mindset resembled the gateway to heaven. Though I doubt McDonalds is served in Heaven. Har har.

"Wait," called Aromere, feeling a little lonely. "I must track Herry and Pickle. They need me."

He sped off in the direction of the mall. He spotted Nandalf sitting under a tree, smoking his pipe carefully. He choked, coughed, and spit out a bit of mouthpiece he had accidently bit off.

"There you are," cried Aromere. "Your nothing more than a bit of roadkill. You must have disappeared with the Cobbits."

"They escaped from me," cried Nandalf, "Alas, these old bones cannot make chase."

"You are old and decrepit," said Aromere kindly, "No one can blame you."

"Thank-you," Nandalf said sincerely.

"I'll get the cobbits," Aromere said resolutely. "They've tried to follow Jam and Andro to the mall. You see, Pickle is a little obsessed with finding his white tree--"

"Aha," Nandalf leapt to his feet, hitting his head on a low branch. "I shall join you in this quest! Will you have me?"

"I do!" Aromere pulled a cigar ring/wrapper/paper/label/thing out of his pocket, knelt, and placed it on Nandalf's finger.

"Oh, stop," said Nandalf. "You've always had a weird sense of humor. Keep your cigar thing. I've got me pipe."

"It's a dead plant," Aromere argued. "Bad for the lungs. You won't live long."

"I've already died once," said Nandalf shortly, "I don't plan on doing that again. If I do, would you sail to the end of the world to retrieve my soul?"

"Aye," Aromere said, pulling a pistol from his belt. A tiny monkey perched in the branches, observing the whole conversation. He aimed the gun and shot the monkey. The monkey toppled out, sprung again to life, and climbed up onto Nandalf's shoulder.

"Hey little fellah," Nandalf giggled.

"Look, an undead monkey!" cried Aromere.

"We have a lot in common, eh?" Nandalf stoked its head. "We both die and come to life. I'm going to name you Shadowfax."

"What an UGLY NAME!" cried Aromere. "It's disturbing!"

"Fine," Nandalf frowned. "How about…JoeBob?"

"NO," Aromere smacked his head. "Name it Jack."

"Why?"

"Uh….." Aromere picked up a random jar lying alongside the road. "Because…" his mind scrambled for a reason as he began to dance around in circles. "I've got a jar of _dirt_! I've got a jar of _dirt_!"

"An excellent reason," Nandalf agreed eagerly. "Jack it is."

"RAR!" said the Monkey, Jack. It grinned evilly at Aromere.

"Filthy little maggot," whispered Aromere.

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**Read and Review please!**

**PS: I made several references to Pirates 2, Dead Man's Chest. Like the jar of dirt, and undead monkey named Jack, sailing to the end of the world to save someones soul, aye, and...bloody pirates. lol. I'm sorry if any of my reviewers are British and feel offended at its usage. I'm not British so I use it. Feel free to send complaints. ;-)**


	11. Chapter 11, the Taming of Davum

**You guys want to pet my monkey Jack? Weeeell, here you go!**

**

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Bullseye:** Whoah, how did I get here? 

**Pip: **Oh, just a little wizardry of Nandalf's. I brought my new monkey to show you!

**Bullseye: **Suh-weet!

**Scissorhero: **Can I pet it too?

**Pip: **Of course! But be careful, he may bite.

**Bullseye**: Howdy, little fellah.

**JacktheMonkey:** Rar!

**Scissorhero**: ha ha, its getting into my pockets.

**Pip**: Oh, careful—

**Scissorhero**: HEY! He stole my scissors!

**Scissors**: Heeeeeeelp uuuuuuuuuus!

**Pip**: Maybe you—

**Bullseye:** After him!

**Pip**: Perhaps I—

**Scissorhero**: Save the scissors!

**Scissors**: Saaaaaave us!

**Pip**: …sigh….Not again, Jack!

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**AN:** A good friend of mine named Dave can imitate Gollum's voice VERY WELL. He is amazing when it comes to it. At school he did a totally improv skit to entertain us in Choir class, while the the teacher was busy. He also discovered he can imitate Elmo's voice amazingly too! So that day he like totally amazed us with this crazy conversation between Gollum, who had eaten Elmo and Dorothy. Some of the convo is a direct quote from my friend. A little background story makes it less weird for you all who may be disturbed from this...hehe...

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**Chapter 11, the Taming of Davum**

Andro sniffled and dragged his feet.

"Would you stop doing that? We can all relax, its almost over," cried Jam, slapping his friend heartily on the back. On impact, Andro fell to his face.

"I'm just tired," cried Andro. "We're going in circles. Can you smell that nasty bog?"

"You are such a pansy!" Jam rolled his eyes.

"But," Andro protested, "I'm the superstar. People are going to remember me and want my autograph. No one remembers the older married dude."

"Now I know how Sean Astin feels," screamed Jam, sitting down on the rock, that was unfortunately, covered in slime. "I'm even worse than…than…"

"A ranger caught off his guard?" offered Andro.

"That's the one!" Jam snapped his fingers. He tried to stand, but found he was somewhat glued to the rock. He eased himself forward slowly. A string of slime snapped like a rubber band and jerked him back down. "You know," he said, continuing his little game of going up and down, up and down. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this rock was trying to keep me here!"

"But," protested Andro, "You DON'T know any better."

"How right you are!" agreed Jam. "HELP! THE ROCK IS HOLDING ONTO ME!" he screamed, flailing his arms around. "Quick, shoot it, Andro!"

Andro nonchalantly pulled a gun from his back pocket. He pulled the trigger and it did nothing but a little click.

"ARG!" cried Jam. "It's the aliens! Quick, get a water bottle! I've heard they don't like water!"

"That click wasn't the aliens," Andro shrugged. "Twas the gun."

"Twas the gun?" repeated Jam. "I can't believe we didn't load it before we left!"

"I say we might have shot somebody!" argued Andro. He reached over, grabbed Jam by his heavy backpack, and jerked him off the rock. "There. How do you feel?"

Jam sniffed. "Oh, I don't know anymore. Ask the scissors."

"Uh," Andro pulled the scissors out of his pocket. "Mr. Pengee's…Scissors. Same question."

"Rar," said the scissors. "When do we sail? When do we sail?"

"Mostly we figures that means yes," offered Jam.

"It wasn't a yes or no question!" Andro sobbed. "I'm so confused."

Suddenly, there was a crackle of bushes. Andro and Jam dived behind an old stump and saw a strange little figure crawling into the clearing.

"They're thieves," gurgled the creature. "Theivesss! Curse them, we hates them. Nassssty, stupid, fat hobbitses!"

"I object to that remark very strongly," whispered Jam. "We're cobbits."

"Gollum?" said the creature. "They stole it from ussss! Our birthday presssssent!"

"That's Davum," whispered Andro. "Nandalf told me about him. He talks funny and his mom dresses him funny. He has two personalities…like the whole Gollum Smeagol thing? He thinks he is Davum and Elmo."

"Elmo?" Jam whispered back. "The red monster? How frightening."

Davum licked his lips and stared eagerly at the cobbit prints on the rock. "We sees the hobbitses have been here, eh, precious?"

"Stop calling me precious," cried Elmo.

"We calls you what we wants to calls you," argued Davum.

"I want you to leave and never come back," screamed Elmo.

"No!" cried Davum. "We wants to stay. You can't go anywhere anyway."

"It was rude of you to eat me," cried Elmo, "The children on television will miss me!"

"Let them," sneered Davum.

"Oh, I see," Jam whispered. "Davum ate Elmo. He doesn't think he is two people. He ate the furry animal from Sesame Street! He is so evil!"

"I think he is just misunderstood," said Andro.

"Yeah, yeah," Jam began to mock Andro. "I am only misunderstood, but I eat children's television muppets for breakfast who try to teach my children to read!"

"Stop acting like an old married man," snapped Andro.

"Heeeeelp! Heeeeelp!" cried Elmo.

"Shut up," cried Davum.

"Dorothy!" cried Elmo with excitement. "You got in here too?"

"Rock and pool, is nice and cool, so juicy sweeeeeeeeet!" cried Davum.

"Dorothy, why are you floating upside down?"

"I only wish to catch a fish," sang Davum, patting his tummy. "So juicy sweeeeeet!"

"Dorothy, why is your head floating away from the rest of your body?"

"We likes em raaaaaaaaaaaaaw!" cried Davum.

"You do know this is incredibly disturbing and morbid," Jam whispered.

"And you're the one that still watches Sesame Street at age thirty," Andro made a good comeback and felt pretty proud of himself.

"I can count all the way to ninety now," protested Jam.

"Well, that's…good news," stuttered Andro. "So, then, on the count of three, we jump him."

"So you jump him."

"No you jump him."

"That's what I said, you jump him."

"Let's do it together, okay? We're all in this together, remember?"

"We're aaaaaaaaaaaaaaall in this together," sang Jam. "Once weeeeeee know that we aaaaaaaaaaaaare…"

"AAAAAHG!" cried Davum, hearing the two listeners. He cowered into a little ball and muttered to himself and told Elmo to stop sending rescue signals through his throat.

"We tamed him," cried Andro, surprised. "We won't need our real elvish rope."

"But I haven't got any," cried Jam.

"You are useless." Replied Andro.

"Okay." Jam shrugged. "If you say so."

"Jam is neeeeeeever useless," sang the scissors softly. "And he has a good singing voice."

"I love these guys!" cried Jam, breaking into…well, Breaking Free.

"We're sooooooooooaring," he chortled.

"AAAAH!" cried Davum. "It buuuuuuuurns!"

"Flyyyyyyyyyying!"

"Make it ssssstop! It hurts ussss!"

"There's not a star in heaven--"

"Yaaaaaaay for Disney," giggled Elmo.

"STOP!" cried Andro. There was a dead silence. "Everyone! It's time to move on. Davum, you've always wanted to pierce your ear. But now, you can repair the damage you've done and help us out, savvy?"

"sssssssssavvvy!" moaned Davum.

"That's all the time we have for now, kids," Elmo tried to get into the spirit of things.

"SHUTUP!" shouted everyone.

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**I beggeth thee to revieweth my manuscript. If thee does, I shall ...shall...hmmmmm I will thinketh on that one...**


	12. Chapter 12, After McDunedains

**Bullseye-fanatic: **Ah, my faithful reviewer, I _would_ kill the little red Elmo beast, but I'm afraid pity has stayed my hand—he may have a part to play before this tale has ended. Elmo was meant to be et by Davum, as much as Andro was meant to have the earring. I must not be too quick to deal out death in judgment. Because, seemingly, many who die deserve life and many who live deserve death, but it is not for me to decide. All I have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to me. –sniff—and so I listen to ol' Nandalf's wise words…

And you have caught me in a mess of bad grammar. I said, "Andro took the scissors from his pocket". HIS meaning, Jam's pocket. My mistake, my faithful reviewer!

**Scissorhero: **No worries, my enthusiastic reviewer! Your scissors shall be returned quite safely. I shall see to it that we'll get together during story-commercial breaks sometime very soon. Perhaps we shall have another meeting in the next chapter. And, if you like this spoof, might I suggest another one? "Stupid and Stupider, Revenge of the Idiots." The author and I are somewhat comrades in Spoofdom. Hers be about Star Wars. To conclude, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**Chapter 12, After McDunedains**

"You know," said Timagorn, licking the salt from his fingertips. "This is very good. What is it?"

"A Big Mac," said Josholus dubiously. "You don't even know what a Big Mac is? Are you really that stupid?"

Timagorn glanced up without reply, a few French fries sticking out of his nostrils.

"You're hopeless," said Josholus, sighing.

Brentli gulped down his third sprite. "This is the stuff!"

"It's a drinking game," said a tall, fair stranger.

"Who might YOU be?" said Josholus, casually poking his chicken strip.

"I am Philimere," said the fair stranger. "I come from Far, Far Away."

"You are Aromere's broooooooooother!" squeaked Timagorn, leaping to his feet and giving him a hug. "I was wondering if you would ever get mixed up in this."

"I tried not to," sighed Philimere. "It draaaaagged me in."

"How disturbing," offered Brentli, frankly not having much to say. "Back to the drinking game."

"I GOTTA see this!" said Philimere; having a seat a helping himself to Timagorn's slightly chewed Big Mac.

An hour later, Josholus finished his eighteenth sprite, and Brentli belched and fell off his chair.

"Game over," said Josholus, wondering if there was a spot where he could lament his hair in the bathroom.

Suddenly Timagorn whistled. "Look who came to town!"

"It's Leowyn," said Philimere. "I am MADLY in love with her!"

"But she is madly in love with me," protested Timagorn.

"And YOU are madly in love with Ariwen," offered Josholus, forgetting his hair for a moment.

"Right, got it," said Timagorn.

"I must speak with her!" Philimere stated, jumping to his feet. "Love calls."

"He's a lost cause," cried Josholus.

"I am vaguely wondering where Nandalf and Aromere are," said Brentli, satisfied that the floor was recently cleaned.

While he vaguely wonders, Nandalf and Aromere, along with the monkey, proceeded to search for Herry and Pickle. Indeed, they were particularly surprised, when they arrived at the Mall.

"THE MALL!" they screamed. Cars were everywhere. Shoppers. Girls. Bags. Elevators. Escalators. How frightful!

"See ya," cried Nandalf.

"Do not leave me NOOOOW!" cried Aromere.

"I'm not doomed to go in there—yet," Nandalf nodded carefully. "The monkey shall stay with you. I sense that Timagorn, Brentli, Josholus, and the country of Locker need me."

"Locker?" Aromere said. "That's where I'm from. Philimere is in charge in my stead."

"That's why they need me!" shrieked Nandalf. "Nice knowing you in this present day."

"Bye," cried Aromere, making the monkey wave. Jack screeched and squeaked.

Nandalf slipped away in a flash of blue smoke.

"Wizards," snorted Aromere. "Come, Monkey, we forge ahead to find the Cobbits."

So Aromere proceeded to the Mall. Cute girls passed by, staring at him. Dorks wandered by from the computer and engineering shops, snorting at the hero as he walked by. Aromere kept a goin'.

Just then, Herry and Pickle wandered by, licking lollipops and carrying Sears bags.

"Aromere!" they cried with glee. Just then, a group of hostile dorks walked by.

"Seize them!" they cried, brandishing their pencils and calculators.

"Run!" cried Aromere.

The three old companions rushed quickly through the aisles, dodging customers and other random little beings that strolled the halls.

"Look, Claire's," screamed the cobbit blondies. "Better stay away from that, Aromere, or ye shall be tempted."

"Ear piercing?" Aromere crept forward towards the door. "It's not very…expensive."

"NOOOOO!" cried the Cobbits.

"It won't hurt just to look," sneered the crowd of Dorks. "Go on, little man!"

"How can we suffer so much…from so small a thing?" Aromere peered through the glass into the jewelry and gift shop. "If you would but lend me an earring!"

"You are not yourself," screamed the Cobbits.

"It's on sale today," said a salesgirl, dressed in red and black with piercing all over her face. "7.50. Good deal. Get one today."

"By jove," said Aromere, "I daresay I WILL!"

"Noooooooooooooooo!" screamed the Cobbits again, watching in horror as Aromere succumbed to temptation, got one ear pierced, and frolicked away.

Suddenly, the dorks swarmed around, knocked Aromere to the floor, and picked up the Cobbits. The dorks carried the Cobbits away into the Mall.

"Cleanup on aisle nine," said the salesgirl dryly.

Nandalf hurried towards McDunedains, where Philimere and Leowyn were hand in hand, and the other three watch awkwardly.

"Come!" he cried, "The Dorks are coming!"

"I can handle them all," boasted Brentli.

"Only if they are made out of paper, my friend," Josholus pulled out his bow from the Lady Halladriel.

"I object to that remark very strongly," said Brentli.

Dorks, secretly trailing Nandalf from the borders of the Mall, swarmed into the fast-food-place-thing and attacked the remaining Fellowship.

"Nineteen!" cried Josholus, crying.

"Lame," screamed Brentli.

"Nineteen hours since my hair was last lamented," cried Josholus, busily knocking Dorks to the floor. Customers grabbed their skirts and fled for their life.

"Twenty," called Brentli.

"Forty," screamed Josholus.

"ninety," cried Brentli.

And thus the battle was over. "Final count," Josholus sneered. "A hundred and eleven."

"Not bad for one who smells like dorks and grease," Brentli sneered. "I am sitting proudly on a hundred and twelve."

Josholus frowned. "But you are not sitting on anything!"

"He's invisible," replied Brentli.

"Your cheating," said Josholus.

"Stop!" cried Nandalf. "We must go to the Mall. Aromere has fallen—I can feel it. The Cobbits need rescuing. I must take Pickle and find the White Tree."

"I shall fetch Herry and go to aide the country of Locker on the borders of the Mall," said Timagorn resolutely, sucking his sore thumb.

"What shall I do?" said Philimere, Leowyn on his arm.

"Just sit there and look cute," said Nandalf.

"I can do that!" said Philimere brightly.

And so…whilst Andro and Jam come to the borders of the Mall, Davum as their guide, Nandalf tracks Pickle and rescues her from their midst. When we join them again, they shall behold the White Tree from Pickles' vision. Herry will join Timagorn, Brentli, and Josholus for a battle in Locker.

"Mr. Narrator," said Brentli, "Can you stop? This chapter is nearly over."

Sorry!

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**Read and Review!**


	13. Chapter 13, a Little Bit of Everything

**Sorry it took me so long!!! School and drama, don't you know...

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**Chapter 13, A bit of everything...

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"Pickle needs me, Pickle needs me," Nandalf sang to himself by way of remembering what his purpose was. "I'm a stupid wizard, I'm a stupid wizard….." He suddenly stopped and wondered where he was.

Oh right! He was on his way to the White Tree!

"Pickle needs me, Pickle needs me," he continued.

Pickle and Herry, meanwhile, were having a nasty time of it all. The Dorks had befallen Aromere—or had Aromere befallen? Anywho, The Dorks each carried a Cobbit under one arm…well, technically two arms, an arm per Cobbit.

"Herry, Herry!" cried Pickle in a panic. "What ails ye, laddie?"

"Laddie?" shrieked Herry. "Me no laddie, me lady!" she wiped something red from her face.

"You're hurt," Pickle wailed dramatically, putting a hand to her forehead for good measure.

"I'm not hurt, I'm pretending," Herry sniffed. "You are an idiot. It's ketchup."

"An act?" Pickle said in disbelief.

"Ketchup!" corrected Herry. "It's the latest fashion."

Pickle shrugged. "Well, I've never been in fashion."

"Thank God!" muttered a Dork.

While these two were having their little….uhh…dilly-dally, Brentli, Josholus, Timagorn, and anyone else I may have forgotten—

"Me!" cries Philimere. No, he just needs to sit there and look cute.

ANYWAYS, those other three, were doing something pretty stupid—geez, can we get a different newsflash around here?

They were hanging out in Locker, smacking their lips thinking of battle and a second journey to McDunedains, (even though they resembled pot-bellied pigs, they paid it no mind. Josholus even started singing one of his elvish songs, and if "Super Size Me" had a theme song, that would be it). The three of them completely forgot about fetching Herry. They decided to let Nandalf handle the pipsqueaks.

"Toooooo-reeeee-laaaaay-ohohoh!" Josholus strummed a little tune with his bow. And violin. "Bigoh Macoh cheesoh whoahoh! Mornie atu alieaaaaaaaaaaah…."

"Good thing that song is "May it Be" sung by Enya," remarked Timagorn.

Brentli found a new respect for the man, considering he remembered such a random thing. Then again, he didn't really recall Enya singing about McDunedains…

"It burns us, it buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurns!" cried Davum, tugging at…well, nothing.

"Shut up, you!" cried Jam, kicking him cruelly.

"Nasssty, crueeeeeeel Cobbits!" Davum cried. "Do not say things like that," said the red, fuzzy side of his other personality. "We need to learn to share, and to love everybody!" "Shut up, you!" "I won't shut up. Not after what you did to Dorothy." "Dorothy, Dorky! Whatever, sssssmall sssstupid creature!" "Oh Dorothy," sobbed one half. "What will I ever do without your wisdom, your insight?"

"He's obsessed!" hissed Jam.

"I know," Andro said dully. "But we MUST HELP HIM!"

"We?" asked Jam. "Surely, you jest! Why 'we'? Why must you ALWAYS say 'we'? It's not like, we're attached at the hip or anything."

Andro looked down. "Well, we kind of are."

Jam looked down. "Oh, that's because you stuck that piece of gum on the side of your jeans and now its stuck to me!"

"Disturbing," Andro concluded.

"Oh, thanks Captain Obvious," Jam snorted.

"Captain?" Andro whirled and looked behind him, saluting and standing straight.

"You booooooozo!" cried Davum. "We knows there isss no Capitahn. We knows you el stupido."

"I'm, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that language," Andro heard a wee bit of Spanish mixed in. Like he could understand THAT! What did Davum think he was? A genius or something?

"Look!" cried Jam. "The Mall!"

"Muy asssssssssssombrosssssoooooo!" squealed Davum, cowering.

"English, PLEASE!" cried Andro, slapping himself in the face.

"It's dark liddel place, ain't it?" Jam lapsed into his old accent when he was feeling plumb and happy.

"Jam," Andro warned.

"Sorry!"

"You know what, Jam?" Andro clapped him on the shoulder.

"What?" Jam asked slowly, fearing for his life.

"I'm glad your with me," Andro said, his eyes filling. "Here at the end of all things!"

"It is SO not the end," Jam protested.

"What was soooooooooooooooooo sweet," commented the scissors. Jam tried to ignore them, but every time he did, they tried to snip a hole in his pocket.

Davum began to sob charismatically. "That wasssss beautiful! How come no one treats ussss like that, precious, eh?"

"Because I'm not your precious," cried Elmo. "And people HAVE treated me like that, because I am a beloved icon for children all over the world!"

"Shutup," cried Davum.

Meanwhile, just on the other side of the parking lot, Nandalf entered the Mall region and saw a group of Dorks exited those large, double doors that strike fear into the heart of the very bravest.

"Halt, Dorky's!" he cried.

The Dorks saw him, promptly dropped the Cobbits on the asphalt, and ran for their lives.

"Pickle, I need you," cried Nandalf. "We are going back inside. It's time for a little Christmas Shopping."

"Me love presents," giggled Pickle, wishing she had a little ketchup for her looks.

Herry sighed. "And where am I to go?"

"Go find someone in Locker, they'll know what to do," offered Nandalf kindly.

"Fine," cried Herry.

"Wait, your coming with me, aren't you, Herry?" asked Pickle, looking worried.

"I don't know," whispered Herry, tearing up. "You smoke too much, Pick."

"Huh?" the beautiful moment collapsed.

"Look, an undead monkey!" cried Nandalf.

"WHERE?" shrieked Herry.

"Gotcha," Nandalf whisked Pickle away with a bit 'o magic.

Herry found she was alone, AGAIN, and decided to go to Locker. And for some, weird, weird reason, she was craving McDunedains. And she TOTALLY fooled Pickle with that ketchup thing—truth was, she just spilled it and forgot to clean it.

Perhaps Josholus would spare a little lament-ness.

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**I try and have a Jack the Monkey episode in the next chappie.**


	14. Chapter 14, the White Tree

**Once again, sorry this takes a long time. I'm really engrossed in my Narnia fan fiction, which has finally reached its anniversery of 50 CHAPTERS!!! **

**Anyways, here you go! Read and Review!!!

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Chapter 14, The White Tree

Nandalf dragged Pickle unmercifully through the aisles.

"Now remember," he instructed, his eyebrows sticking out to far they looked like rakes. "Say nothing about Aromere. The Master will be upset to hear that he has fallen to the dark side."

Pickle wondered how in middle-earth Nandalf had mixed Aromere's befallen-ment with Star Wars.

"And do not say anything about Philimere's foolish behaviour with Leowyn," Nandalf added quickly. "And do not mention food."

"Why???" Pickle gasped. It was one of her favorite subjects!

"Actually," Nandalf said as an afterthought. "It's best you do not speak at all."

Pickle nodded in defiance and spotted a familiar creature. "Jack!" she cried. Jack bounded down the aisle and leapt onto her shoulder.

"My undead monkey!!!" cried Nandalf. "I thought you died with Aromere."

Jack proudly displayed an earring in his left ear.

"How disgusting," sniffed Nandalf. "Oh well. After all, he's only a blacksmith."

"No," Pickle said sappily, "He's a pirate!" she patted his tiny balding head.

"There is the Lord Denethor," Nandalf said grandly, pointing to the White Tree from Pickles vision in the center court.

"That's Santa," sniffed Pickle.

"Hush," replied Nandalf.

They arrived to what appeared to be the White Tree. Around the tall pine with fake snow covering it, there were many children in a long, long line. A sign was posted that said "Santa is feeding the reindeer. Will return at three." Someone was just shifting the sign, as it were, because it was already three and Santa sat in a large chair where children were posing for their pictures taken.

"I love presents!" cried Pickle.

"You won't get any," Nandalf said, marching to Santa. "Excuse me, sir," he cried. "I have come to bring you tidings for good or for evil. For behold, a Savior has been born for all people. This shall be a sign unto you--"

"Your always quoting scripture," Pickle laughed so hard that Jack leapt off her should and ran away. "What he MEANS to say is that Aromere is dead (well, forgotten, that is) and we're here to see your white tree."

"Kid," said Santa, "I have no clue what your talking about."

Nandalf grew red. "Listen buster, we're in a LOTR spoof here, can you try and cooperate a little???"

"I'm on the job right now," Santa protested.

"You are ALSO Denethor, the Steward of Locker," Pickle added. Nandalf smacked her with his staff.

"Go home, kids," Santa said. "There's lots of pictures to be taken."

Pickle really did want her picture taken, and begged Santa, but he repeatedly told her she had to go to the back of the line.

"Well, can I sing for you, then?" Pickle said hopefully.

"ARG!" cried Nandalf, fleeing for the nearest entrance to a sound proof store.

"Oh, go for it," growled Santa. "But I won't be listening."

"My house is back there!" cried Pickle.

"The earth is up there!

And there are many roads to trip on…

Through my scary dark hallway…

To the edge of cliff,

And when the stars are all alight,

I'll fall into the shadow,

Past clouds and space,

I shall fall, and my life will fail!"

Santa glared at her. "You want a picture? You'll have to do better than that, kid."

"That's my best version," sighed Pickle. "Very well, I'll try again."

"Home is melon-rind," she sang.

"The world a bed,

And there are many paths named Ted,

Through brown doe's,

To the edge of Sprite,

Until the stars fly like a kite,

Mist and brown doe's,

Cloud and snake,

Hope shall mail,

All shall……………………." Pickle paused for effect.

"Spaaaaade!"

Then she sobbed.

"THAT was funny, kid," Santa guffawed. "You still want a picture?"

"With an old, grouchy man impersonating a beloved icon that is hard to please?" gasped Pickle. "You must be JOKING!" and with that, she scampered away, whistling. Nandalf joined her eventually, clutching Jack, and offered, "So, you wanna go to the other side of Locker and see Herry?"

"Yes, yes I do," Pickle said quite seriously. "I miss my other half!"

Nandalf whistled cheerfully and they barely realized it, but they passed Andro, Jam, and Davum in the parking lot. They probably didn't notice because they were dressed as Dorks, making their way into enemy territory with a Host of Dorks, and whilst in their crew, Davum managed to escape them—Elmo protesting all the way.

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Sorry so short! I was having a little trouble with Jack.

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**Scissorhero: **He still has my scissors.

**Pip: **Yes, er, well, I'm doing something about that.

**Bullseye: **I think I'll just sit here. Let's see if he'll come back.

**Pip: **Oh, he will, trust me. I've got a little something here that will attract any monkey within sniffing range.

**Scissorhero: **And what might that be?

**Pip: **Here it comes now!

**Indiglo comes through the door with a bag of McDunedains.**

**Pip: **Now heat that up nice and hot. The smell will bring him back, I'm sure of it.

**Bullseye: **Monkeys don't eat McDonalds.

**Indiglo: **Of course they don't, silly! But they'll eat McDunedains!

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**In the next episode, we'll see if Jack the undead monkey will return—hopefully, he'll bring the scissors back with him!!!**


	15. Chapter 15, Battles and Spiders

**Belated Christmas Gift to Scissorhero! Merry Christmas!

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**Disclaimer: I don't really own any characters because they are all real people. I don't own LOTR because, well, you all know. Let's see…um…I rent them! Yeah!

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****Chapter 15, Battles and Spiders**

Andro and Jam were certainly peeved about the disappearance of Davum.

"Well, we were dressed like orcs, so don't you think that's a bit expected?" Andro started.

"DON'T EVEN," erupted Jam. "Stop trying to stand up for him! He's hopeless!"

"Your mom is hopeless," replied Andro.

"Oh," Jam saddened immediately.

There was a moment of silence. Gasp!

"Look!" squeaked Andro, a British accent coming upon him in his horrible fright. "Look! Dead faces! Dead faces in the windows!"

As they walked past Gap, Ann Taylor, and Hollister, there were—indeed—rows of white people (who DID look dead) wearing fashionable clothing in the windows.

"Yes, all dead," Jam said in a creepy voice, enjoying the fright on Andro's face immensely. "THAT'S BECAUSE THEY'RE MANNEQUINS, STUPID!"

"Quite right, quite right," Andro huffed. "Well, they didn't tell me."

"Excellent caaaaaall, Jaaaam," said the scissors nicely.

Jam slapped his pocket.

----

"Are we there yet?" asked Pickle.

"Don't start that again," whined Nandalf. "Or I'll pull out all your pretty hobbit hair." He tugged a strand for emphasis.

"This new Nandalf is grumpier than the old one," muttered Pickle. "What's that over there?"

"The COUNTRY OF LOCKER," said Nandalf in his narrative voice.

"Yippee!" shouted Pickle, skipping daintily over, swooping down and picking a bouquet of daisies while she was at it.

"Is that you, Picklesmile Mook?" said a familiar voice.

Pickle bowed. "The very thing. Is that you, Herry Sandybruck?"

"Indeed!"

They stared at each other a moment.

"What are you doing in those clothes?" asked Pickle finally.

"It's armor," said Herry in a fabulous voice. "We're about to do war with the dorks, you know."

"Do I get armor?" asked Pickle.

"No," said Nandalf.

"Sniff," she replied. "Can I have an Oliphant?"

"No."

"A football field?"

"NOO!"

"A lollipop?"

"YES," said Nandalf, relieved, and handing her a lollipop.

"I find you get what you want if you ask for the impossible first, then the possible second, and they are relieved to accommodate you," Pickle explained.

"I just always ask for what I want, and I always get it," Herry said, not really accustomed to the cranky wizard.

----

Timagorn, Brentli, and Josholus were pleased to find the cobbits together once again.

"Happy Hanukkah," sobbed Timagorn. Everyone only stared at him.

"Welcome back, lasses," Brentli guffawed.

"Doth any one of you have a travel packet of Pert Shampoo Plus?" Josholus asked carefully, tugging fondly at a blonde lock.

"Not really," the cobbit's replied.

"The dorks are coming!" shouted a nearby voice, presumably Philimere, who broke gaze with Leowyn long enough to spot a black line approaching.

"YAY!" everyone shouted, unsheathing their swords from Toys R Us.

"To the finish!" shouted Josholus.

"DEEEEEEEEATH!" shouted Nandalf, enjoying the adrenaline rush right before big, climatic battles.

"AAAARG!" cried Brentli. Suddenly all was silent.

"Bloody pirate," said Josholus.

"I've lost my monkey," sighed Pickle. "He seems to have disappeared again."

"Well," said Herry, "At least he shall escape battle."

"battle? What do you mean?" gasped Pickle, just as the dorks charged.

Lovely, orchestrated music started just as the two lines met. Philimere happily turned on a soundtrack on his favorite pink boom box for dramatic effect. Leowyn put on HIS hat and ran into the fray, disguised amazingly. Or perhaps everyone was just too busy to notice her long, white dress flowing by, perhaps they just noticed the antique helmet that shielded her maiden face.

Jack the monkey was busily hopping through the trees, wanting to go back to the mall. He thought it be fun to visit the food court. Or the Disney store. Or maybe Nordstrom!

----

Davum ran back to his favorite cobbitses.

"We couldn't stay away for ssssso long," said Elmo gleefully.

"Shutup!" said Davum. "None of the ssssappy sssstuff."

"I'm glad your back," Andro said kindly. "Even if you do smell like aftershave."

"What's aftershave, precious? What's aftershave, eh?"

"Well, for one thing," Elmo explained, "I'm not your precious, and secondly, aftershave is something that smells bad that people put on their faces—I think."

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" shouted Jam suddenly. Several people turned to look at the lunatic. "I'll be here all week, tip your waitresses," added Jam.

"Uh, yeah, to change the subject," Andro said, tired of Jam to be honest. "Which way do we go? You left us too suddenly and we've been walking in circles, now if you'd be so kind and show us the way?"

"Sssssssshortcut," Davum said happily to himself. "Through……the PET STORE."

"ooooh, ahhhhh," said the cobbit's, remembering their cue.

"Wait, not the Tunnel of Shelob?" asked Jam.

"No, no, we guesses not," Davum said.

"Now, Davum, don't you go on with your--" started Elmo.

Davum smacked himself on the stomach very hard. Elmo started howling with pain—and so did Davum.

Finally, they walked into the Pet Store, wary of many dorks wandering here and there, picking gadgets up for their pets because they had nothing else to do. Davum sneaked his hand into random tanks and kept eating the goldfish. Elmo was surprised at how many Dorothy's were coming to see him—but didn't quite realized they were all dead.

"Look at thiiiiiiiiiis onesy," Davum coaxed Andro. "Look at the pretty ssssspider."

"oooooooh prettyyyyyyy." Andro was hypnotized.

The tarantula noticed a hand coming into his tank and began to scramble around, cleary upset.

"FILTHY VERMIN!" Jam suddenly shouted, jerking the flashlight with star guts in it out of Andro's pocket. He shined it into the Tarantula's eyes. The poor spider shuddered and climbed underneath a plastic log.

"Ssstupid fat hobbitses," said Davum.

"That's what they call me!" Jam pulled Andro along. "Come along now, Mr. Frodo, not that way, I've got a better way. The jewelry store is just five doors down!"

"Don't. Call. Me. Mr. Frodo." Andro said, clearly upset at the whole ordeal.

Jam jerked him out of the store, ignoring Davum's protests and Elmo's random cheers and songs of Christmas pudding and ABC's.

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**And now, for the best reviewers and their conitunal search with the author for the infamous Jack the Monkey, and the beloved pair of scissors that he so happily stole from Scissorhero. **

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Pippin: Well, now, we've waiting for weeks and weeks on end for the monkey…and he still hasn't come back.**

**Indiglo: This stinks. He won't come to McDunedain's. **

**Pippin: Jam, or Jack?**

**Scissorhero: Well, who has my scissors?**

**Pippin: Well, Jam has them in the story, the monkey has it in our monthly comedic skits.**

**Indiglo: Officially confused… **

**Bullseye: This is hopeless…..sniff…….we've all come here for nothing…..**

**Pippin: What about my story?**

**Indiglo: Oh, uh, I assure you, this is the next best thing. **

**Pippin: That works. **

**Scissorhero: MY SCISSORS ARE GONE FOREVER! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO!**

**Bullseye: Well, you'll just be a hero, then, without the scissors.**

**Scissorhero: It really doesn't work that way.**

**Bullseye: Oh. **

**(Jack the infamous monkey crawled into the clearing, not smelling the McDunedains, but frankly curious about the four scissor comrades. He runs up and taps scissorhero on the shoulder.)**

**Scissorhero: Sniff, don't bother me.**

**Indiglo: We're kind of in mourning, now, dude. **

**Bullseye: Guys……..**

**(Jack taps repeatedly on scissorhero's shoulder.)**

**Pippin: Can't you see scissorhero is busy?**

**(Jack pulls out the scissors and dangles them in front of scissorhero's face.)**

**Bullseye: scissorhero!**

**Scissorhero: Hm, what? (sees scissors) MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE!**

**(grabs for scissors.) (Jack darts out the way—cawing, cheering, or growling, whatever it is monkey's do)**

**(All of them LEAP forward and try and tackle the monkey. A cloud of dust emerges. When the cloud clears, Scissorhero is triumphantly holding the scissors. Bullseye is trying to get the dust off. Indiglo is looking for the monkey. And Jack the monkey is sitting on Pippin's head).**

**Scissorhero: at last! All is as it should be!**

**Indiglo: Except Pip has a strange, funny hat. **

**Bullseye: MONKEY! He's got the Phial of Galadriel now!**

**(Jacks leaps away and goes running through the treetops as fast as possible. All four give chase, brandishing fake swords and yelling "Bloody pirate monkey!")

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**--The End!**


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